The morning breeze brushed over the trees outside, forcing those below to hold onto their hats and papers a little tighter as they headed into the school. And I saw them all in a different kind of light now. Any one of them could be like David—there was no way of knowing. They all looked so normal, so human. Like he did, I guess.
I looked down at my soft, pale white hands and the little blue veins running under the skin, rising slightly over the bones. These were the hands of a mythological vampire, not David’s; his were warmer than mine, and pink and strong, and they shook a little when he held them out in front of him for too long. I wondered how much of that was well-rehearsed human behaviour, or really just the way his hands were, which made me wonder what he would have been like when he was human.
“Morning, beautiful.” He sprung up on my windowsill.
I stumbled back, hand over chest—trying to stop my heart from leaping out. “David. You have a habit of popping up when I’m thinking about you.”
“Do I?”
“Mm, but I think you already know that.”
He grinned and placed a paper bag in my hand, kissing my cheek as he stepped into my room. “For the ogre.”
“Ooh. Yum.” The warm scent of vanilla and cinnamon wafted out in a moist puff from the bag. “Afraid I’ll bite you if the ogre gets tempestuous again?”
“Don’t joke—” He pointed at me as he flopped down on my bed. “Your bite is pretty sharp for a fangless wonder.”
“Says he whose bruises recovered in ten seconds.” I walked over to sit next to him. “You want some?”
He shook his head. “I’ve eaten already.”
“Food or…”
“I missed you last night,” he said softly, pushing the curtain of hair away from my face, totally ignoring my question.
“Oh, what? You mean you didn’t sneak into my room?”
“Well, I came by to check on you, but I never stay if your dreams are peaceful.”
“How would you know they’re peaceful?”
“I can see them.” He grinned and laid back on my pillow. “Last night, you were dreaming about Mike.”
Dread spread through me, stiffening my arms.
“Ha!” His lips turned up sharply, showing his fangs. “So, you remember your dream, then?”
I rolled my eyes. “It wasn’t like that.”
He scoffed, tucking his hands behind his head. “Looked pretty intense to me.”
“You’re reading into it wrong,” I said, trying my hand at dream analysis. “I wasn’t dreaming about Mike, specifically, just the friendship I had with him…that I now have with you—only that with you, I have so much more. His face was a representation of our relationship, but the body,” I scoffed, motioning to David’s fine chest, “was clearly you.”
David nodded, still smiling, with an edge of mockery in his eyes. “Should I be worried?”
“No,” I said with a mouthful of pastry. “Don’t be silly.”
“Do you love Mike?”
“No.”
He sat up, dropping his elbows to his knees, his hands clasped. “You sure?”
I sighed. “Look, I do love Mike, but it’s a different kind of love. Here.” I took his hand and placed it against my cheek. “You told me you can see the past if I let you—see for yourself. Read my mind.”
His emerald-green eyes darted over my face. “Really? You’ll let me read your mind?”
“Mm-hm.”
He closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. “Thank you, Ara.”
“Did you see?”
“No.” He pulled his hand down from my face. “If you say you don’t love him that way, then I believe you. I don’t need to see it in your memories. Just don’t break my heart, okay?”
“Okay. I promise. Now, can you stop hassling me and let me get ready for school? We’re gonna be late.” I popped the last bite of pastry into my mouth and kissed David on the lips. “Thanks for breaky, by the way. It was delicious.”
“I imagine it must’ve tasted the way you would,” he said thoughtfully.
“Well, you’ll never know.” I winked at him, then practically skipped into my wardrobe. After I pulled my shirt off and snapped the clasp of my bra behind me, a warm, honest chuckle filled my room. I peeked around the corner.
“How old were you in this photo?” David asked, without looking up from the small square sheet.
“Two or three, I think.”
“The boy next to you is Mike?”
“Yup, and he’d just tipped a bucket of bathwater over my head.”
“Yeah, I kinda gathered that.” David nodded, smiling tenderly at the picture. “He picked on you a lot, didn’t he?”
“Yup. Not much has changed, really.”
David slipped the photo back into my nightstand where he’d been snooping. “You were a very cute baby.”
“I know. So, what about you?” I headed back to my wardrobe and shimmied into my jeans. “Do you have any baby pictures?” His pause of consideration turned into a long silence, so I stepped back into my room. “David?”
“There were some.” He nodded, his gaze distant. “My father was never one for portraits. As Jason and I grew older and would sit for long enough, my uncle had a few done. There may still be one in existence.”
“Didn’t your mother ever have one done?” I asked, and David’s eyes darkened instantly. I covered my mouth with both hands. “I’m sorry—that just slipped out. I forgot she passed away.”
“No, no, Ara, it’s fine. Please—” he took my hand, “—don’t be sorry.”
“But I am. I feel really bad. I should’ve remembered that.” I slumped down on the bed beside him, sucking my gut in a little since I had no shirt to cover it.
“Make you a deal.” He ran his thumb over my bra strap. “You can say whatever you want to me, if you do it dressed like this.”
I laughed. “Should I go put on a shirt?”
He smiled. “No.”
“Will you tell me about her—your mother?”
His gaze drifted to distant places. “I mentioned once that she died when I was a baby?”
“Yes. Childbirth?”
“Yes.”
I clicked my tongue. “Aw, David.”
He shook his head. “It was common for those times, especially with Jason and I being a multiple birth. She simply gave birth, then fell asleep—never woke up again.”